By DAFFODIL J. ALTAN October 25, 2007

A few years ago I arrived in Lisbon, Portugal, while it was still dark. At 6:30 a.m., just as the escalator pushed me up onto the sidewalk, the sun and the city were coming into their own. Everything glistened. The sight of the old, towering city encrusted in blue tile and piled on top of itself right next to a glittering sea reminded me of my grandmother's hands, of her heartbreaking, jubilant laughter. It didn't make sense, but there it was. The weight of its history and the beauty of the city made for a sensation that was a mix of hunger, excitement and a tiny bit of... More >>>